|
\ Realm of Reality /
“There must have been something you did” Vic whispers to herself, her bikini and tunic dress replaced by a pair of grey slacks and a blue button up shirt. Her bedroom barely smaller than the parlour on the opposite side of the room, Vic sits within its corner, her eyes glued to the moving screen of her computer as countless snapshots flutter up from the screen’s bottom before vanishing beyond its top. Though each photograph, some in colour whilst others remain in their original, black and white form, flashes by her face, not a single one stands out as familiar, each face as unaccustomed to her as the next. “Fuck!” Scarlett exclaims, slamming into a wall just beyond Vic’s closed bedroom door, her feet carrying her past Vic’s room and to her own a slight distance further. Her attention taken from the screen, Vic waits silently as Scarlett’s shoes tap along the ground, counting every step in her head. Pressing her hand against the wall, Scarlett proceeds to her bedroom, the door quietly closing behind her in an effort to avoid a confrontation. “Rough day?” Vic wonders aloud, appearing in the centre of the room with her arms crossed, startling the already-dazed blonde enough for Scarlett to trip over herself retreating, her weight sent into the door. “Jesus! What the hell’s gotten into you!?” Vic exclaims, lowering her arms as she steps forward, attempting to provide aid for her obviously-troubled friend. “No! I don’t need help!” Scarlett shouts, slapping Vic’s hand the moment her skin’s graced by it, quickly attempting to push herself up. “Scarlett, what’s going on!?” Vic inquires, watching the woman wave off her help as she uses the wall for support, “you look like a fucking mess!” “Thanks, hot stuff- I’ll be sure to put that in my memoir!” Scarlett jests, discarding her knapsack in the room’s corner as she advances toward a set of drawers near her bed. “You get my point- what’s going on?” Vic responds, yet to redirect her attention, though Scarlett wishes she would. “Nothing’s wrong, just leave it alone” Scarlett replies, reaching for the first t-shirt that finds her hand as she interrupts Vic’s attempt to do dissimilarly, “leave it the fuck alone, Vic!” Her mouth hanging open for just a moment, Vic’s lips soon press together, her friend’s dirt-covered tank top and grass stained jeans replaced for a baggy blue t-shirt and a pair of blue jean shorts. “This is how it’s gonna happen, isn’t it?” Vic wonders aloud, provoking Scarlett into matching her attempt at productive dialogue with purposefully vague statements. “How what happens?” Scarlett half-heartedly asks, not as interested in the discussion as she is in unravelling the open-ended nature of Vic’s remark. “How we get to killing each other. This is how it starts, isn’t it?” Vic replies, watching Scarlett’s face turn toward her slightly, her pupils taken to the corners of her eyes, “you shut me out until we grow distant. Then we’ll just be two strangers fighting for a piece of furniture.” Scoffing at the suggestion, Scarlett shakes her head, throwing the blue t-shirt over her stained top, “we’re not gonna kill each other, Vic” she replies, wishing to put the discourse aside. “Then make up your fucking mind, Scar!” Vic yells, her friend purposefully offering her the cold shoulder, “are we incapable of defying what the realm wants, or are we gonna spend the rest of our lives living in denial about what it wants.” “It wants us to get rid of Suzie” Scarlett replies, the mere sight of comfortable pants bringing Scarlett audible relief in the form of a sigh. “So, that’s your plan? Keep her alive until we don’t have to kill each other anymore?” Vic inquires, again met with little assistance from Scarlett, who struggles to slide off the tight denim holding onto her legs for the dearest of life. “My plan is that I don’t have a fucking plan” Scarlett replies, forcefully prying her leg free from the jeans’ restrictive cuff, “as long as she’s around, the realm’s not interested in anything else.” Covering her eyes with her hand, Vic rubs her temples with the tip of her fingers, trying to relieve herself of a headache she can feel beginning to build. “And what happens when we get rid of her?” Vic inquires, her second hand seeking comfort atop her hip, “we just pretend we don’t know what it wants from there?” Scowling, Scarlett lowers her feet into the jean shorts, her answer barely loud enough to make it out from beneath her breath. “Then we take it one day at a time” Scarlett replies, buttoning her pants as they slide past her thighs, her ensemble only in need of a decent pair of running shoes. Left in silence for a moment, Scarlett grabs the first pair of chequered shoes from the near rack, her feet slid into their comfortable embrace as she prepares to leave. “Why are you trying to push me away?” Vic inquires, raising the question just as Scarlett’s shoulder brushes her own, the blonde stopping mid-step once the query reaches her ear. Her bottom lip pressed between her teeth, Scarlett takes two steps back, looking Vic in the eyes as the question lingers, fluttering through the air having yet to be answered. Looking Vic in the eyes, Scarlett remains silent, her mouth opening without any intention of offering an answer. Cutting her losses, Scarlett leaves the qualm where it resides, resuming her departure by stepping past Vic and reclaiming her knapsack, the snap of her finger accompanying her elsewhere. Watching Scarlett vanish, Vic remains in the position she was left standing in, her chin lifting toward the ceiling as she shakes her head, letting free a deep sigh. “We’re losing it” Vic whispers to herself, closing her eyes as she makes for the door, departing Scarlett’s room in favour of her own, the slightest grasp she’d once held toward hope growing weaker as the days pass. = Dream Sequence is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards = \ Realm of Reality / “El pollo. ¿Dónde está?” Jared inquires, approaching a man at random as Rachel follows closely behind with a shopping cart. Inspecting Jared for a moment, the old man holds back a laugh at the sight of a pasty young man trying his best to speak his language. “El letrero que dice 'asador' en la parte trasera del mercado. Ve allí” the man replies, speaking too fast for Jared to understand much of what’s said, the important parts luckily sticking out from the rest. “Gracias” Jared remarks, the wheels on the trolley behind him nearly drowning out the man’s response of “si seguro”. After a few moments, the pair reach the rotisserie, its line relatively short and manageable. “This place has a bank nearby, right?” Rachel whispers to the nearest person, a confused look worn on the woman’s face. “¿Hay un banco aquí?” Jared interjects, already becoming too familiar with earning the same expression. “Creo que hay un Regional cerca de la parte de atrás de la tienda” the woman replies, her finger aimed across the shop’s interior. “We use Regional, right?” Jared queries, his answer given in the form of a nod, “she said there’s probably one at the back of the store.” “Can you keep an eye on the cart?” Rachel inquires, stepping away from its handle as Jared takes her place, freeing her to make the journey through stocked shelves and patterned floors. As she nears the bank, Rachel takes a quick glance in the direction she’d arrived, reluctant to believe she hadn’t been followed without proof. “¿Retiro o depósito?” the clerk inquires, watching Rachel approach the desk cautiously, her hands restless and anxious. “Can I use your phone?” Rachel queries, the same response she’d earned from the lady near the rotisserie now given to her by the cashier. “Fuck- uh” Rachel murmurs, her pinky finger and thumb extending as she holds her hand against the side of her head, “Phone? Teléfono?” Assuming the woman is unable to speak spanish, the clerk quietly nods her head, retrieving the landline from beneath the counter before setting it down before the concerned woman. “Thank y- Gracias” Rachel mutters, removing the phone from the receiver before taking a moment to recall the number, a few seconds passing before her fingers make contact with the buttons. Her hand shaking, Rachel’s dialling concludes as she lifts the phone to her ear, her quivering breaths playing out with the empty buzzing sound from the opposite end of the call. “Hi, you’ve reached the Endrue residency, we’re unfortunately not at the phone” the answering message remarks, Rachel’s eyes beginning to tear as their lids press together, a smile brought upon her face as the familiar voices speak to her. “Please leave a message, and we’ll call you back the first chance we get!” her mother’s welcoming voice concludes, falling silent just as the machine takes over. “H- hi, mom” Rachel stutters, trying to wipe the tears from her eyes before the clerk begins to assume something was wrong, “it’s Rachel.” Not having fleshed out what she’d wanted to say, Rachel says whatever the first things to cross her mind are, her heart inspiring most of the one-sided discourse. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m alright. I’m okay and I’m healthy. There was a little- uh- fogginess, we’ll say- but that’s all better now” Rachel explains, the coff of her long-sleeved shirt beginning to dampen with salty tears, “I just wanted to tell you that I’m okay, and that you shouldn’t worry about me.” The sadness she carries evident in her voice, Rachel musters a mood-defying smile, trying to make peace with the world she’d been unceremoniously welcomed into. “I have to lay low for a little bit, but I’m okay and-” she continues, the true sorrow she holds deep within beginning to grow beyond her reach, “-and I miss you. I miss you, and I miss dad. I miss Praireville, and I miss everything. I’m trying to keep our morale high over here, so I haven’t been able to say that in so long.” Taking in a deep breath, Rachel continues to say her peace, her elbow pressed against the hard countertop as she continues. “I miss my life, and I miss just being able to be there with you. I’m happy where I am, but it’s just so hard being away” Rachel furthers, her tears just starting to fall from her chin, “I hope this will all just be over soon. I hope I can pretend this was all one strange, and weird, and fucked up dream. I hope everything will just be normal again, y’know?” Fearing the possibility of the machine cutting her off, Rachel begins to finish her message, the smile held steady upon her face despite the overwhelming pit built within her core. “I’ve got to go now, but I wanted you to know I was okay. I wanted you to know that everything’s gonna be alright” Rachel concludes, an expression of confidence replacing the dejection-laden visage she’d worn moments prior. “I’ll come home one day. I’ll see you again” Rachel continues, the dolour behind her words replaced with a stoic assurance, “I love you, mom and dad. Be safe.” Abruptly ending the call, Rachel returns the phone to its receiver and bows her head in the teller’s direction, returning too Jared’s side as she wipes the tears from her face, a newfound purpose discovered. | \ Paradox / “I just can’t help myself, can I?” Vic mutters to herself, continuing to walk the trail beneath a dark, stormy night in search of one building in particular. Each step carrying her over loose gravel, Vic nears the top of a hill, sparse droplets of water beginning to fall as the sky grows lighter in the distance, its gloomy, night time glow replaced by the deep, orange hue of an evening sunset. Each step carrying her closer, the sunset-sights reveal themselves for what they truly are, the pellets of rain gradually continuing to fall harder, slowly building up as sirens draw close. “What the hell?” Vic mutters to herself, watching flames climb toward the heavens, undisturbed by the fact that their reach just fails to measure up to what sits above. In unmanageable flames, the town house burns beneath the night sky, its wooden structure doomed the moment heat began to build. “Help!” a familiar voice screams, pleading with the fire trucks to drive faster, not a single one carrying the water needed to put out such a fleet of furious flames. Her walk having turned into a run, which now turns into a hover as she glides through the air, Vic draws closer to the siblings, their faces flushed with a perilles despair. “Two of them are on the-” Lincoln begins to explain, the first firefighter he encounters shoving him back with his shoulder, running through the large man whilst disregarding his plea. “Hey!” Suzie exclaims, beginning to chase after the man responsible for her brother’s attack, her anger directing itself upon the worker. As her chase persists, Suzie’s forced into a full stop, the sound of structural groaning now carries itself through the yard as the top-most level begins to descend. Having given his sister chase, Lincoln takes the young woman by the arm and pulls her back, tackling her to the ground as the flames shoot outward from the home, propelled forward by the home itself, the wooden structure giving out as its supports burn beyond repair. If not by the soaring flames that tear through the air of a hot, summer’s night, the souls still clinging to life within the building are crushed beneath the weight of its edifice, their survival all but unfavourable if any hope had been spared to begin with. Having seen the building’s toppling as an inevitability, Lincoln’s last shred of hope dies off in the final moment, his efforts to save his sister from permanent scarring now the only good he can do. Unable to watch, Suzie buries her face in the freshly-cut grass, listening to the building howl as it crashes into the ground, a heavy gust of wind carrying the flames throughout, targeting the firefighters tending to its control first and foremost. With a flurry of shouts, the workers collapse to the ground, tending to their wounds as best they can whilst others tend to them, the lack of a warning making it impossible to escape the home’s wrath before it was too late. “Chris, tell me it didn’t fall!” Suzie exclaims, her eyes pressed together as the roaring ceases, the back of her head pelted with raindrops as the storm begins to roll in. “Chris!” Suzie shouts for a second time, her arms forcibly pressing his sister’s hands to her sisters, not wanting to let the woman go. “I can’t do that, Suz’” Lincoln replies, shielding the woman’s face with his shoulder, remaining as composed as he can manage in the face of their family’s demise. Despite the siblings not knowing, Vic remains watching over them, stood in the grass just a short distance away with her arms hung, the knowledge she has of the pair making it difficult to perceive this moment as legitimate and genuine, a very similar feeling to that of their final encounter left with her. | \ Realm Beyond / “Just tell me you didn’t take sleeping pills to get in here” Esotera remarks, accompanying Scarlett through the realm with a concerned look on her face. “I’m not asleep” Scarlett replies, met with a look of surprise. “You’re not asleep?” Esotera responds, the inquiry one Scarlett takes little concern over, confirming it with relative ease. “Scarlett, you’re vulnerable here!” Esotera warns, stepping in front of the woman to prevent her advancement any further, “if you’re not asleep, you’re not protected in here. You don’t get that safety net!” Her hand placed against Esotera’s shoulder, Scarlett gently shoves the woman away from her path, a lack of care taken in the remark. “I don’t plan on being here long” Scarlett replies, summoning her service weapon as a ghoul draws close, a charge fired through its expressionless skull despite its docile appearance. “I need answers, and letting the realm know I’m making myself vulnerable to it will help that” Scarlett replies, her destination approaching. “You don’t know what the realm wants” Esotera replies, speaking from a genuine place of worry as she continues to play the role of Scarlett’s shadow, “with Suzie still around, this stunt of yours could be really dangerous.” Stopping mid-walk, Scarlett looks Esotera in the eyes from a place of aggravation, her temper becoming much easier to earn than it has normally been. “Everything we do- whether it’s in our sleep or while we’re awake- is for this fucking monstrosity” Scarlett replies, relinquishing her weapon to the realm’s tow, “all of it’s dangerous. So, with that logic, there’s not a damn thing that I- or that Vic- can do that isn’t dangerous.” With a frown, Esotera lowers her head to one side and watches Scarlett continue, an inability to argue the point made. “Just be careful, please” Esotera calls out, watching the woman continue to walk off with little ability to dissuade her. “I’m not making promises” Scarlett shouts back, ascending the steps to the mezzanine’s ground, unable to think of a more reasonable place to seek answers than chaos’ apparent favourite setting. Its ascending level spiralling around the central bonsai tree, Scarlett’s eyes take to the gradually-elevating passageway at each end of the circular chasm, the white lights above its apparent end-point. “Hey, weirdo!” Scarlett calls out, beginning her climb toward the mezzanine’s highest point, each attempt left with a brief pause, an open space to interject thoughts left for Mother to occupy. “Yo, you faceless bitch!” Scarlett barks, her voice carried throughout each level, rising higher with each increase in her octaves, “am I gonna waste my time here, or are you running late? I’m here, where are you!?” As if on command, the bright light just over the abyss’ head becomes obstructed, a large object descending from the curious skylight above. Peering upward and squinting, Scarlett watches a large object plummet through the mezzanine’s centre, its features more apparent as it passes Scarlett’s floor. Stripped of most personality, Scarlett watches the police cruiser tear through the air front-first, its blue and red lights barely apparent as it enters the dark, lifeless gorge. As seconds pass, the car finally reaches its final destination, its metal twisting and glass windows shattering as the sound is carried upward, heavily deepened by the distance travelled. On impulse alone, Scarlett leaps from her platform in search of answers, embracing the great unknown with open arms as she dives toward the bottom. Her service weapon summoned, Scarlett slows her descent, the crippled remains of the vehicle’s husk reflecting the light she shines upon it, her feet finally reaching solid ground soon after. Barely able to see the divine light above, Scarlett nuzzles herself into the void she’d knowingly entered into, her service weapon barely providing the emptiness with light. Peering into what used to comprise the front seat, Scarlett notices the lack of a fourth, driver’s side door, its remnants the only part of the cruiser detached as all others sit with the rest in a heap. “All hail the king!” Scarlett’s ears take to, the collective chants emanating from beyond the entrance to a spacious tunnel, its walkway the only passage available for the realm’s keeper. “All hail the king!” the legion continues, repeating the chant as Scarlett draws nearer, acting on the impulse that had driven her to the abyss’ heart as she steps through the corridor, the sound growing louder as seconds pass. Her light barely affecting the walls, Scarlett continues to hear each howl emerge from the hallway’s endpoint, its sound drawing her closer, the voices striking a fire within her soul. Given light for the first time, Scarlett rounds the first corner she comes across, the scene she comes across unimaginably eerie. Its monolithic size less awe-inspiring than the mysterious light green glow that lights it, an open monument sits filled with feral ghouls in the thousands, each pair of red eyes taking to her upon arrival. “All hail the king!” they scream, extending their deteriorating arms toward the heavens with gratitude, welcoming their ruler with a sickly admiration and regard. “All hail the king!” the chorus sing once more, the discontinuation of their cheer apparently yet to fall in sight, prompting Scarlett to awkwardly step away from the crowd, slowly stepping back in favour of returning to the tunnel. On the verge of throwing up, Scarlett turns her back to the ghouls, beginning to step through the walkway before the inside of her right arm falls into strangely familiar possession. Turning her head, Scarlett locks eyes with a spirit stranger than the rest, its face and body half-devoured, the flesh that remains wrenched with desperation. Unable to speak, the figure continues to look Scarlett in the eyes, the woman failing to recognise him for a few moments. “What the fuck are you?” Scarlett inquires, curiously drawn closer to the figure before finally veering her sights toward the untouched portion of his face, a sudden realisation coming over her. With mercy, Scarlett summons her service weapon with her free hand, its barrel pressing against the ghoul’s head before the trigger is pulled. Killed, the ghoul relieves Scarlett’s arm from its grasp as its remains fall into her arms. Relinquishing the weapon, Scarlett snaps her fingers together and departs the realm beyond, continuously cheered by the army she leaves behind, the lone regressive soul returning to the realm of reality alongside her. | \ Realm of Reality / “What’s so funny!?” Jared laughs, his plate cleaned of the dinner Rachel had spent the evening preparing, the fork he’d used to do it left beside the ceramic platter. “We live in a place where it never snows, and we have all the land we could possibly need!” Jared exclaims, Rachel’s humoured expression kept as a glass of water lifts to her lips, “tell me, what reason do we have to not put in an underground pool?” “My body isn’t built for a bikini, should we start with that?” Rachel replies, their collective laughter contained within the bright orange walls of their kitchen. “The only people living here are the two of us, why wear a bikini when you can just swim naked?” Jared jokes, sharing Rachel’s amusement before doubling down, “I know it sounds funny, but it’d be a waste of money to buy bikinis and trunks when there’s literally zero reason to.” “Cost-efficient doesn’t make it a good reason” Rachel replies, sliding her fork past her lips as she chews the final bite of her meal, allowing Jared a fair chance at defending his deep-end desires. “Alright, when it’s hot, we can use the pool instead of the A/C!” Jared replies, watching Rachel’s eyes roll as her back leans into the seat. “If we have the money to install an in-ground pool, how is electricity a problem?” Rachel counters, watching Jared’s head shake as he struggles to answer. “It’ll pay for itself in a few years, it’d be the perfect long-term solution for high electrical bills!” the man exclaims, stopping himself from finishing the statement without laughing, his tone carrying the weight of one hundred percent seriousness. “So would never turning on a light, but I don’t see you outlawing lamps!” Rachel replies, returning to the initial reasoning, “what if I’m reading a book and it’s hot? Do you want me to just throw the book in the pool and call it a-?” Nearly finishing her thought, Rachel’s sentence is cut off just as the electricity is, the home suddenly darkened as their dinner wraps up. “Please tell me you’re not trying to prove a point with this” Rachel quips, following Jared’s lead as his chair drags across the floor, allowing him to leave the kitchen. “No, I’m pretty sure it’s just a power outage” the man replies, Rachel still able to see his figure as she carefully steps around him, venturing to their home’s rear patio. “Unless we’re on a different power grid from that house, I think this is just us” Rachel replies, the lights of a home nearly half a kilometre away undisturbed, “did we blow a fuse?” With a sigh, Jared sets his attention toward the sink, his toolbox stored within the cupboard just beneath its basin. “I think the house overheard our in-ground pool talk” Jared humours, his tools rustling within the metal container as he lays it atop the countertop, “it must have had some opinions of it’s-” This interruption more violent than the first, Jared’s thought subsides as the frame of their door shatters beneath the weight of a heavy boot, granting the vicious intruder entry to their home. “Jared!” Rachel shouts, watching the outline of his figure scurry through the dark, his toolbox carried in hand. “Through the back!” Jared exclaims, opening the patio door before moving aside to grant Rachel an escape. “Find somewhere they-!” Jared begins to order, stepping through the rear-exit before their home’s decimation catches him within its crossfires. Hit with the equivalent of an explosive, the home’s rear wall collapses, the shockwave of the blast stifling the young man by hurling him through the air with no warning to offer. Watching the man land a great distance across the yard from her, Rachel breaks away from her braced position, eluding most of the blast relatively unharmed. “Jared, get up! Jared! Get up!” Rachel pleads, shoving and slapping Jared’s unconscious body with depleting hopes that a response will arrive. “Get up! Get up!” Rachel shouts, screaming in the man’s face until her mouth is forcefully closed, her face smothered with a black towel and a strong grasp. Feeling her body numb in real time, the instincts Rachel subdued in an effort to spare Jared’s life kick in, her hand reaching for the slim tool she’d felt her knee press into seconds prior. As her struggle fades, Rachel slips the blue-handled weapon into the waistband of her jeans, the starry night sky going dark as her consciousness fades out. Falling limp, Rachel’s body hits the ground, her skin grazed by soft grass and hard dirt. With a sigh of relief, the large man that had pressed his weight into her returns to his feet, the rag he’d suffocated Rachel with falling to the ground, discarded of as its job has finished. == Dream Sequence ==
0 Comments
\ Realm of Reality /
“Come on your prick, answer the phone” Scarlett grumbles, her phone pressed against her ear for what appears to be more than the first time today. “You’ve reached Cal. Leave me a message” the answering tone replies, a few rings passing just as they had before, prompting Scarlett to roll her eyes and wait for her opportunity to leave a message. “Sheriff, call me back” Scarlett greets, pulling the phone away from her head before shouting into the receiver, “if you don’t, I’ll start to think something bad’s happened to you.” With the tap of her thumb, the call ends, returning Scarlett to the empty, rather dull parlour the couch she sits upon occupies. Mildly agitated, Scarlett’s eyes drift throughout the room, its spacious living room just beginning to find its personality, paintings joining other random decorations in providing the lounge some colour. Though her mind continues to make attempts at drawing her attention toward the terrace, Scarlett’s conscience refuses, battling her mind’s intentions with the power of her heart’s will. Knowing who sits beneath the sun’s light, Scarlett feels her restraint loosen, her head constantly pulled toward the newly-reinstalled sliding glass door. Pressing her teeth together, Scarlett’s final ounce of resistance falters, her face sneering as she peers over her shoulder, soon giving into demands laid forward by her frontal lobe. Slowly parting the doors so as to not make a sound, Scarlett pokes her head through the small opening, her face struck with a staggering heat the moment her air-conditioned body loses its modern comfort. “What’s up, Scar?” Vic inquires, staring into a flipbook of random photographs just as she had before, Scarlett’s attempt at staying quiet now proven unsuccessful. “Uh- have you heard from the sheriff?” Scarlett replies, Vic’s dark hair shining magnificently beneath the burning light as her focus remains stolen by the picture book. “That depends” Vic replies, her head resting slightly further back than before, “which answer will get you to sit down and talk to me?” Her eyes nearly lifting behind her open eyelids, Scarlett shakes her head and begins to pull away, “nevermind, I’ll go check myself.” With more enthusiasm, Vic matches Scarlett’s aggravated tone with one of her own. “Really!? You’d rather go out there- to a town you’re partially responsible for levelling- just to avoid talking to me?” Vic posits, earning a reply that all but confirms her thesis. “I’m pretty sure I could help with the clean up, so- yeah” Scarlett replies, again attempting to slide the door shut before Vic can respond. With the snap of her fingers, Vic appears behind Scarlett’s person, landing with much more grace than she’d known how to before. “We haven’t seen what people are saying about this, Scar. We don’t know what’s going on outside this house!” Vic exclaims, her statement brushed off as Scarlett steps past her, attempting to carry onward. “What’s your fascination with West anyway?” Vic inquires, tying the string on her tunic dress over her bikini now that the hot summer sun has been traded in for the breeze of ice cold air. “I wanted to know how things were going back home” Scarlett replies, reaching for a knapsack pre-filled with items fit for a multi-day trip, “I guess this gives me two reasons to go, doesn’t it?” “They’re two very bad reasons, but sure- do what you want” Vic replies, watching Scarlett prepare to depart before finishing the remark beneath her breath, “you know no better anyway.” Aware of what buttons she’s pushing, Vic turns her back to the impulsive blonde, returning toward the sliding doors with her hand extended. “Alright, what do you mean by that?” Scarlett responds, her fingers snapping as her intended destination abruptly changes, her feet falling firmly upon the ground just before Vic. “You know exactly what I mean, Scar” Vic replies, stepping around the woman as she fulfils her departure, her hand pressing against the glass’ metal framing. Again lifting her hand, Scarlett prepares to blockade Vic’s exit for a second time, only for apprehension to prevent her fingers from pressing together. Without another word, Vic leaves the house without hindrance, returning to her seat on the patio whilst Scarlett watches on, her hand lowering just as her expression does. On the assumption that Vic’s replies were in an effort to provoke her into a counter-argument, Scarlett refuses to offer a counteraction, allowing Vic to move on with the day just as she intends to, her fingers snapping with her initial destination in mind. Hearing the snap, Vic waits a few additional moments before glancing through the window, hesitant to believe Scarlett had actually set off for Praireville. Eyebrows lifting, Vic looks on with surprise, the opposite of what she’d anticipated having occurred. With a smile and a casual nod of the head, Vic returns to the patio, reclaiming the photobook before staring intently at a previously-chosen photo, a few seconds passing before she, too, disappears into thin air, her own journey in mind. = Dream Sequence is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards = \ Realm of Reality / “How’s the first bite?” Jared wonders, his hands clasped together atop the kitchen table, his anticipation building as Rachel gently slides a fork past her lips. Her teeth pressing into roasted bits of carrots and mashed potatoes, Rachel’s chewing begins to slow, her face holding steady as best as she can whilst the food remains between her teeth. “It’s-” Rachel parts her lips to say, her teeth still held together, the words she wishes to speak avoiding her as much as finishing the food does. His anxious expression prompting her to down the moderate portion she’d skewered her fork through, Rachel attempts to answer quickly, her efforts to do so thwarted by a coughing fit. “Oh come on!” Jared laughs, his hands parting as he sinks back into his chair, a disappointed look on his face matching the humour in his own failure, “there’s no way I fucked up cooked vegetables!” Leaving her fork in the dinner, Rachel slides the plate across the table’s wooden surface, affording Jared the opportunity to give the concoction a taste for himself. A slight amount of desperation fueling his eagerness to fill the tines with as much as they can hold, Jared scoops the assortment into his mouth and begins chewing, soon burdened by the same troubles as Rachel. “So- how’s the first bite?” Rachel jokes, resting her elbow on the table as its hand supports her head, the grimace on Jared’s face as he swallows nearly bringing a fit of laughter to her. “It’s, uh- wow” Jared struggles, swirling his tongue around the inside of his mouth as she stumbles over his words, eyes widened as he nods. “You know, it wasn’t bad! It was pretty damn-” Jared answers, quickly changing his course without warning, “-shit. It was pretty damn shit.” Discarding of the fork in the meal whilst Rachel laughs, Jared walks the barely-touched plate back toward the kitchen. “We might as well- we should just burn that” the man remarks, pointing to the colourful assortment camouflaging itself as a meal, “though, I think I already did.” Her humour making room for sympathy, Rachel leaves her seat to join the man beside the kitchen sink, her hand rubbing his arm as he slides the creation into the bin. “I think it might be time to retire from the plate” Rachel remarks, watching her laughter from seconds prior find its way to Jared. “I guess I’ll have to go learn how to build nuclear reactors now- cooking just didn’t pan out” Jared replies, watching Rachel’s head dip, her forehead pressing against his chin, “some people are meant for the kitchen, and others are meant for Chernobyl- it’s fine! We’re both probably better off!” Looking into each other’s faces, the pair continue to share their amusement until Rachel switches course, her face leaning into Jared’s as their lips meet. The comedy quickly falling aside, Jared reciprocates the kiss for the few moments prior to its ending, his surprised eyes meeting Rachel’s as they pull apart. “Uh- yeah, I’m just uh-” Jared stammers, setting the plate into the sink’s basin before walking off, an uncertain smile returned to the woman, “I’m just not one for the kitchen.” Their separation awkward, Rachel watches Jared leave with a troubled expression, a deep fear she’d done something wrong left to build within her. “Well, I guess there’s nothing wrong with that” Rachel replies, in convoy of the man at a slower pace, “we only need to be here until Scarlett comes back, so- being bad at making food isn’t the end of the world.” Having begun to climb to the second level of their home, Jared’s ascent pauses, his head bowing as his hands press against the bannister to each of his sides. “What’s wr-?” Rachel wonders aloud, the flight of steps lit poorly by the bulb of a single light at the staircase’s top-most step, “did I do something?” Slowly looking back, Jared looks into Rachel’s eyes, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he turns around, seating himself on one of the many, carpeted steps. “No, you didn’t- you didn’t do anything” Jared replies, sighing as he unleashes the railings from the palms of his hands, his hands coupling together atop his lap. “Was- was it the kiss?” Rachel replies, Jared’s eyes widening as he shakes his head, “maybe I shouldn’t have- I- maybe I read the room wr-” “It wasn’t the kiss” Jared replies, not wishing to draw Rachel into a long-winded, unimportant rescindment. “Well, what’s wrong?” Rachel wonders aloud, her voice softening as worries creep in, the uncertainty of what rests upon Jared’s subconscious now starting to gnaw at her. “It’s just-” Jared begins, letting another sigh free as his shoulders lower, his face wearing the disappointment of a remorseful expression, “Scarlett’s not coming back.” Her lips briefly parting, Rachel’s eyes grow wide, her eyes dropping as the information reaches her ears, worming its way through her head and latching itself upon her mind. “Oh” Rachel responds, her head hanging as her right arm reaches across her body to gently caress her left, eyes returning to Jared as the weight in her voice grows heavy. “Did she tell you why?” she replies, able to see the difficulty in Jared’s face as he troubles himself with answering. “She didn’t know how things were going to end. She wasn’t sure if Suzie was gonna get the best of her, I guess?” Jared responds, his hands thrown out as he shakes his head. “And she didn’t say goodbye?” Rachel queries, obviously trying to hold back a slight hurt this revelation has set upon her. “I think it would have hurt her too much” Jared answers, lowering himself further back, “you didn’t remember all those years with her, so- maybe she was trying to protect herself?” “So she left because I didn’t- she left because I don’t remember us being friends?” Rachel inquires, the answer to the question already given under different phrasing seconds prior. “Alright” Rachel sighs, turning for the kitchen with her arms hanging at her sides, intent on having a moment for herself. | \ Realm of Reality / Briefly losing her balance, Scarlett emerges within West’s office, her hand grasping the edge of the sheriff’s desk before she can topple over. Her wits regained, Scarlett removes her hand from the wooden workspace, her second hand flipping the switch near the front of the room. Covered in dark grey matter, Scarlett’s hand matches the coating that’s formed along the top of the sheriff’s work station, a large gathering of dust having accumulated along an empty, decoration-less table. Her hand wiped along the side of her pant leg, Scarlett takes a quick look around the office, her eyes gazing at walls as empty as the bookshelves that line them, very little personality held in any corner of the room. Void of even a name plate, the desk sits barren, undisturbed by life just as it sits unperturbed by the world. Of the two bulbs in the overhead light, one sits in the dark, its light burned out just as the desk appears to have been, any significant symbols or personal items entirely discarded. Just as the office she now departs does, the remainder of West’s precinct sits equally abandoned, emptied of character and entirely barren. “What the fuck is going on in here?” Scarlett whispers to herself, continuing to stare throughout the building with no one to tell her otherwise, its premises entirely left to decay within the elements’ hostilities. Stepping through the front door, Scarlett’s eyes widen, her face dropping as her boots lay upon fractured concrete, the parking lot just beneath the wheelchair-access slope she stands upon sat beneath muddy stillwater, reflecting the cloudy skies above. Too many questions left without answers, Scarlett snaps her fingers, the sight of familiar grounds conjured up in her head. In seconds, the murky, swamp-like remnants of her hometown’s outer skirts are replaced by the horrifying aftermath of destructive forces colliding. Flying in units just over her head, a fleet of helicopters pass the levelled Praireville city centre, their duties on the ground below fulfilled by fleets of armoured trucks inhabited by members of the SWAT team. Lined with hazards, Praireville’s road sits untravelled, its surface uneven and loitered with cracks and craters, each crevasse partially filled by the dust and debris of collapsed buildings. Quick to snap herself onto the highest level of the nearest mid-rise building, Scarlett peers through shattered windows from the comfort of a long-abandoned private yoga studio, the carnage left to her sights below nothing short of awe-inspiring. The skyline she’d once known now permanently defaced by the removal of high-rise buildings, Scarlett watches helicopters pass with every other minute, cars driving over whatever navigable terrain they can come across in search of answers just as she is. Her face pressed close to the glass, Scarlett’s watches an assortment of various police vehicles stop at once, the units that occupy them now spilling out into the street, their weapons readied as if a target were in their sights. Her hand hoisted into the air once more, Scarlett directs her line of sight toward a building just barely visible on the other side of town, snapping her fingers with a specific window in view. Nearly losing her balance once more, Scarlett comes to in an empty apartment building half the town’s length away, a better vantage point offered as she stares toward the ground. Guns drawn, additional forces arrive to provide the first group with armed backup, many cars now kicking up dirt as their tires screech to a halt across damaged asphalt. A chill running down her back, Scarlett’s eyes wander through the room she now inhabits, curious for answers that refuse to make themselves known. Deeply concerned, Scarlett’s eyes press together, her hands rubbing the sides of her head as she considers her next move. As the sounds of vehicular engines draw nearer, Scarlett’s brain offers a suggestion, one that only prevails through the clutter of inquiries available once the tires just below her building’s complex drag along unsteady ground. Her eyes kept closed, Scarlett lifts her hand and snaps herself away from imminent danger, her heart taking her away from the scene of misery. | \ Paradox / Her tunic dress having untied, Vic braces her barely-clothed body against the winter chill running through the plains of rural Minnesota. Her hair blown by steady, calm winds, Vic’s eyes take to a cosy home near the end of the cul-de-sac she finds herself in, a smile put on her face briefly until another chilly breeze wipes it away. Her soft, see-through dress and orange bikini a very poor choice as far as attire is concerned, Vic approaches the home, its exterior lit up with festive, colourful lights, marking the end of a year with grace and wonder. Snapping her fingers, Vic escapes the cold to find herself stood atop the freshly-vacuumed carpet of a warm, cheer-filled home. A family’s seasonal gathering taking part a few rooms over, Vic welcomes herself to a look around the holiday-inspired living room, its walls lined with decorations and chimney hosting a roaring fire. Atop the mantle, framed photographs of a happy family, the likes of which comprised of parents, grandparents and offspring, sit proudly, overlooking the room in which the various branches of the family tree come together as one. In the room’s corner, a tree stretches close toward the ceiling, reaching as high as it can manage, yet failing to touch the popcorn pattern just overhead. Lined with ornaments, smaller family pictures, tinsel and bright lighting, the tree sits atop a tree skirt, its lowest branches hovering over wrapped presents and celebratory goods. “I don’t know if this is on-brand for her, or the furthest thing from normal” Vic mutters beneath her breath, staring into portrait after portrait as a tiny, young voice calls out to her. “For who?” the little girl inquires, a question spoken just loud enough to capture Vic’s attention, the woman quickly turning around with her eyes set toward the ground. “Do I know you?” the little blonde girl wonders aloud, inspecting Vic for a moment before the obvious questions dawns upon her, “and why are you wearing a swimsuit?” Her head resting to one side, Vic lowers herself to a knee, her left leg bent as she nods. “That’s a good question that I don’t have an answer for” Vic replies, not wanting to scare the girl away by admitting how surprised she is. “Can you see me?” Vic inquires, waiting a moment for the girl to answer, her tiny head only nodding in response. “Do you know who I am?” Vic adds, slowly trying to gauge how far the interaction can be taken. “Are you my cousin?” the little girl replies, earning herself a smile from Vic as she continues to answer, “my mom said I have cousins from different sides of the family, but I thought they were all supposed to be my age.” “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m not your cousin, huh?” Vic responds, her confusion settling in favour of the wholesome, friendly attitude she allows to take over, “I’ll take it your name is Scarlett.” Her head nodding emphatically, young Scarlett stands before Vic with her hands coupled, two teeth, one from the top row and the second from the bottom, waiting for their successors to grow in. “There’s a boy in my class- Eli- he keeps making fun of me” Scarlett responds, allowing Vic to ask her a follow-up question as she lowers herself further, crossing her legs as she takes up a seat in the middle of the floor. “How does he make fun of you?” Vic replies, placing the palms of her hands against her bent knees whilst Scarlett replies, a smile brought upon her face by the sincere innocence her friend’s younger self presents. “He calls me ‘Scary Mary’ ‘cause my name starts with ‘Scar’” Scarlett replies, her answer nearly drawing a laugh from her accidental pal, “I told mom and dad I want to change my name to ‘Anna’, but they won’t let me.” “Why ‘Anna’?” Vic ponders aloud, her response coming quickly and with vehement desire. “Because it starts with a ‘a!” Scarlett proclaims, giggling as she leaps with her hands in the air, “I can be at the front of all the lines at recess!” “Scarlett, honey! Dinner’s ready!” a slightly-familiar voice calls out, the conversation she’d had with Vic almost instantly falling out of favour. “Come on! Dinner’s ready!” Scarlett shouts, waving her hand toward the kitchen as she breaks away, hurrying for the dinner table with expectations of Vic joining. “I’ll be there in a second!” Vic calls back, still sat in the centre of the floor with little intentions of taking the chance on anyone else noticing her presence. Thinking quietly to herself, Vic lifts her hand into the air, struggling to understand why Scarlett’s declaration sounds so vaguely familiar, departing for her modern time having been given a new query to inspect. | \ Realm of Reality / Though spring sits just around the corner, Minnesota leaves plenty of warmth to be desired, Scarlett’s comfortability with the Maldives weather leaving her troubled by what she perceives to be inclement temperature. “Ma!? Pa!?” Scarlett exclaims, dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and a white tank top, a black zip-up jacket worn over her bare shoulders as she slams her closed fist against the quiet house’s front door. The cul-de-sac behind her as absent of passersby as usual, Scarlett peers through the awning windows built into the side of her grandparents home before snapping her fingers. The room she enters filled with a quiet, disturbed silence, Scarlett takes a look around the parlour to find little of note, no furniture left in any odd position, no signs of reason for worry. “Ma!? Pa!?” Scarlett exclaims, her hands coupled by each side of her mouth as her shout travels throughout the home. Still left with no answer, Scarlett helps herself to a look around, her eyes taking to an open space in the living room floor for no reason. Equally as lifeless, the kitchen sits empty of most decor, a microwave oven sat beside a toaster whilst an unplugged television set sits in the counter’s end. “Mom!?” Scarlett exclaims, her hands again coupled beside her mouth to the same response, an empty, eerie silence returned to her, still little reason offered to believe anything different would. “It’s Scarlett!” Scarlett exclaims again, waiting patiently for an answer she knows will not arrive, though she holds out the aimless hope that it will, “are you here!?” The kitchen’s unappealing emptiness striking her as odd, Scarlett’s sights lay on anything of importance, the slightest display of character immediately drawing her attention. Within seconds, the purposeless roam her eyes move with settle upon the refrigerator, the personality-drained cookery retaining the clippings and photographs her grandparents had always taken a liking to. “To girls killed in Prair-” Scarlett begins to read aloud, stopping herself short of the conclusion before turning her focus to the next article. “Speculation grows over involvement of girls in-” Scarlett’s eyes again take to, spending little time upon the second set of bold, black-lettered words before advancing to the next. “Mother of disgraced Praireville teen-” Scarlett starts skimming, again stopping herself short, but not out of self-avoidance, but rather fear. Her voice having fully vanished, Scarlett shakes her head as her eyes widen, the clipping removed from the fridge as she reads further, traversing the paragraphs until reaching the end. In a hurry, Scarlett lets the article fall to the kitchen’s tiled floor as her fingers snap, a poor recollection of her destination prompting her to land within it at a random point. Emerging halfway up a hill, Scarlett tumbles backward, falling to the grassy incline’s lowest point before returning herself to a standing position, a frantic search taking her past stones chiselled with brilliant artwork and engraved with loving words. As minutes pass, the sky begins to grow dark, the onset of evening having turned into the beginning of night, prompting Scarlett to summon her service weapon for the smallest amount of light manageable. “Where- where- where!?” Scarlett grunts, passing one lot after the next before finally, after nearly half an hour of searching, her sights set on the display she’d come for. “Oh- no, no!” Scarlett moans, stepping closer to the gravestone the vibrant blue glow of her guiding light had taken toward before dropping to her knees, her mothers name, birth date and death date listed beneath a family portrait.” “Hey!” a distant voice exclaims, his flashlight paling in comparison to the luminosity of Scarlett’s, “you’re not supposed to be here!” Disregarding the man’s warning, Scarlett stares into her family’s headstone, her name centred between her father’s and mother’s own, each date appearing definitive. “Hey, kid!” the voice shouts once more, approaching Scarlett with an angry tone, taking her to be little more than a trespasser intent on damaging property. “Leave me alone!” Scarlett shouts back, taking the man’s advancement to be an indicator of his unwillingness to leave her in peace. “Visiting hours are over, you need to leave or I’ll call the police!” the man replies, resistant to allow the woman the privacy she’d requested. “I told you to leave me alone, please don’t make me hurt you!” Scarlett shouts back, the sorrow in her face replacing itself with anger, the blue weapon at her side beginning to pulsate. “Kid, you need to go!” the security officer responds, taken aback by the woman’s declaration for a moment before stepping forward, his hand taking Scarlett by the shoulder forcefully. With ease, the girl springs off her knees and slaps the man’s hand away, her weapon aimed between his eyes. His life threatened, the guard’s instincts take over where his better judgement would otherwise serve, his hand moving to the taser saddled on his side. Operating off her anger, Scarlett’s finger pulls at her weapon’s trigger, firing a pellet of electricity through the guard’s eyes before his defence can be detached from the holster he carries it in. Cleanly exiting through the back of the man’s head, the charge burns a hole through the man’s skull, the small wound it leaves behind allowing smoke to billow out from behind his cranium. Within seconds, the guard falls back, his body collapsing to the ground as lifeless as those in the wooden boxes beneath him, Scarlett’s hand having sentenced him to a similar fate. Seething, Scarlett fights for breaths as her actions begin to sink in, the service weapon relinquished to the realm beyond as she stares at the product of her work. Surveying the area, Scarlett stumbles back, losing her balance until she falls into her family’s headstone, realisation beginning to set in over what she’d just done. Her mouth going dry, Scarlett rubs her fingers together frantically, trying to snap herself away from the scene of the crime without a destination in mind. Aware of how overcome with emotions she now suffers with, Scarlett takes a deep breath and pictures her villa, the snap of her finger returning her to sanctuary. == Dream Sequence == \ Realm of Reality /
Business elsewhere in the home settled for the moment, Scarlett departs the villa’s dark, intimate back rooms in favour of the spacious, increasingly-decorated parlour. Her teeth pressing into the skin of a fresh apple, Scarlett steps into the open living room, her ears first capturing the calm sounds of warm, Arabian waters rushing past the supports of the home. “Hey” a friendly voice calls out from the kitchen, its presence drawing Scarlett’s startled eyes toward it. With a steel wool pad, Vic runs a sleek, white plate under scalding water, scrubbing its stains and crusted remnants with a steady hand. “H- hey” Scarlett murmurs, neither young woman keen on saying much more than what they’ve offered, the silence that follows their brief interaction just as awkward as the aimless stare they hold upon each other. “I’ll- I’ll leave you to-” Scarlett soon remarks, beginning to turn back toward the way she’d arrived before Vic cuts her off. “No, it’s fine!” Vic exclaims, setting the plate and pad into the near-empty sink before stopping the water, her hands reaching for the towel nearest to her, “I think we should probably talk.” Her eyes squinting, Scarlett begins to shrug her head from one side to the other, continuing to slowly retreat toward the home’s cosy depths. “Don’t you think it’d be better if we didn’t?” Scarlett responds, her inquiry prompting Vic to lower her chin, leaving the damp towel atop the marble countertop. “I don’t think going radio-silent on each other is gonna help anyone” Vic replies, the wedge driven between them visible in the separation of their persons. “Maybe not, but what if the alternative is the thing that sets us on- that?” Scarlett queries, pausing her retreat as Vic leans against the half-wall between the kitchen and adjacent parlour, “the crash course Lincoln told you about?” Lowering her chin for a second time, Vic subtly shakes her head, quietly making sure her response is given sound reasoning. “I could ask the same thing about shutting each other out” Vic replies, her head tilting to one side as her shoulder shrugs, “besides, weren’t you the one that said we were wasting time trying to outsmart the realm?” With a brief frown, Scarlett rolls her eyes, her hands coupling together behind her lower back as she leans against the wall, still the room’s length away from Vic. “Yeah, but that was before I knew the realm was pitting us against each other” Scarlett clarifies, her answer not doing much to change Vic’s approach. “The destination doesn’t make the truth of what leads to it any less true” Vic quickly rebukes, her reply bringing a frown over Scarlett’s face, “we’re not going to stop the realm from accomplishing it’s- whatever it wants.” “That doesn’t mean we need to speed up the process” Scarlett retorts, the frowning expression now worn by Vic, “and we can’t risk turning on each other with Suzie still in the picture!” Her arms crossing, Vic stares at Scarlett with a disgruntled look, a question already prepared to leave her lips. “How do you expect us to take care of that problem if we’re not even on speaking terms?” Vic wonders aloud, a question Scarlett admittedly has little answer to. “I don’t know!” Scarlett snaps back just as quickly as Vic had asked the question, “but I nearly took her out myself, didn’t I? If Lincoln’s the only reason I couldn’t finish the job- there’s nothing stopping me now!” Annoyed, Vic shakes her head and rounds the corner she’d turned minutes prior, her sights returning to the stack of unwashed dishes that remain. “Why the hell do you have to be so damn fucking tempermental!?” Vic exclaims, the question raised more as a declaration of her frustration than with the intent of obtaining an answer to. “Oh, look at it already starting!” Scarlett shouts, her arms thrown out by her sides as she approaches, matching Vic’s raised tone, “go ahead- repeat the other horseshit Lincoln spewed off! Call me quick-tempered, and impulsive- Call me everything short of corrupted, why don’t you!?” “Well, apparently- up until about a week ago- you were!” Vic shouts, scrubbing her dish with such force as she responds that her hand pushes through its centre, splitting its ceramic figure in half. “Fuck!” Vic shouts, chucking the wool pad into the sink’s cast iron basin as she shakes her right hand, three of her four knuckles bloodied by the shards that now sit in the sinks drain. Stepping around the counter, Vic begins to walk the direction Scarlett had entered through, a passing glance taken at the blonde as she wraps the end of her shirt around the cut. With a scowl, Scarlett looks the woman in the eyes as she steps past her, setting off for the nearest bathroom whilst Scarlett watches, her own anger kept hidden well below her restricted demeanour. = Dream Sequence is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards = \ Realm of Reality / Whilst Scarlett follows closely behind him, Jared tags after Rachel, a pair of suitcases carried in the hands of all three travellers. “So, you guys like it?” Scarlett queries, the last to step through the entrance of a quaint home situated in an open plot of land on the outskirts of an attractive city. “It’s so pretty!” Rachel speaks in a soft, whisper-like tone, the lounge she first peers into providing her with a welcoming aura. “Where is this again?” Jared inquires, pausing in the archway between the living room and spacious kitchen, able to peer into a hanging garden just beyond the cookhouse’s exit. “Ciudad Del Este. Paraguay” Scarlett replies, flipping a switch from across the room to bathe the family space with light, “as far as places Suzie shouldn’t be able to find you in go- this seems preferable.” Still somewhat shaken from the disbelief that the homely space they enter, adorned with four levels, multiple bathrooms and bedrooms, and a large, open space beyond their backdoors, Jared and Rachel gaze in wonder silently, all under Scarlett’s watchful eye. “¿Sabes ese español que estabas estudiando por diversión? ¿Cómo está?” Scarlett calls out, no longer needing to specify who her inquiries are directed toward now that Rachel wanders into the next room over. “Está bien. Está un poco oxidado” the man replies, watching Scarlett’s head bob from one side to the next. “It’s passable. You’ll get better the longer you’re here” Scarlett replies, a response made in good faith, yet met with immediate curiosity. “Wh-? How long should we plan on being here?” Jared wonders back, the woman’s face falling slightly as she shrugs, her bottom lip pressed between her teeth as she forms an answer. “We don’t know how long Suzie’s gonna be an issue yet. It could be days, or maybe weeks-” Scarlett responds, the open-ended conclusion to the reply leaving room for an unspoken alternative, “-maybe longer.” Though not outright opposed to the idea of settling in for a fair amount of time, Jared’s optimistic expression begins to falter, slowly becoming one of worry. “You don’t have to- but you could stay here forever if you really wanted to” Scarlett adds, a gesture Jared continues to take bother over. “Vic paid for the land, got you work permits and permanent residency under different names. You’ve got enough money in accounts to cover yourselves for a few years!” Scarlett continues, the man’s expression not growing any more optimistic, “you’re set for however long you’re here.” His head bowing, Jared begins to nod to himself, not as a result of the woman’s remarks, but of the thoughts he fills his head with quietly. “What’re you thinking?” Scarlett soon inquires, the pair making their way further into the parlour, occupying the comfortable sofa sat in the room’s centre. “It’s just a lot to process” Jared replies, his eyes still held on the patterned carpet beneath his dirt-covered shoes, “don’t get me wrong, I know why we have to- but it’s just- it’s just nerves.” Able to understand the concern that fills Jared’s mind, Scarlett swipes a loose strand of hair over her ears, her hands wrapping around Jared’s own. “You guys are going to be fine” Scarlett responds, pulling one of her hands away to guide Jared’s face toward her own, their eyes meeting. “Suzie shouldn’t be able to find you here. You won’t need to live with the fear that you might get dragged into all of this again” Scarlett explains, a tone of genuine sympathy in her voice. “You’ve got a fresh start to build a new life in. You’ve got everything you could ever need!” Scarlett continues, a sudden display of retraction offered in Jared’s posture. His shoulders stiffening, Jared pulls his hands away from Scarlett’s, his face pulling away from her own as he leaves the couch, stepping further into the living space. “What’s wrong?” Scarlett ponders, unsure of the reason behind his reaction. “You keep talking like there’s something you’re hiding” Jared responds, his hand pressing against the sides of his head as he turns back. “Why do you say-?” Scarlett begins to inquire, incapable of finishing her question before Jared provides her with an answer, already knowing where the qualm was to lead. “Because- the way you’re talking- it makes it seem like we’re not talking a few weeks” Jared replies, his suspicions increasingly justified as Scarlett’s face lowers. “How long do you actually think it’ll take before you come get us?” Jared inquires, Scarlett’s eyes slowly lifting toward him, too ashamed to answer his question without biting her tongue. Letting out a sigh, Scarlett drops her head once more, making peace with the answer she’s left to give. “I’m not” Scarlett replies, waiting another few moments before returning her eyes toward Jared’s, who stares at her in surprise. “You- wha-?” Jared stammers, Scarlett’s silence allowing him a chance to resort his thoughts, “wow. Y’know, I thought you were gonna say ‘a year’, maybe? Or- or two?” Though she’s begun the process of making sense from the reply, Scarlett recognises that Jared’s yet to begin, the realisation settling over him gradually. “It’s not like I want to abandon you guys, but I-” Scarlett explains, her clarification the only thing Jared’s mind can comprehend, his full attention given to it, “-I don’t think I have the choice.” His head pulling back, Jared watches Scarlett’s head roll, her legs increasingly restless until she pulls away from her seat, forced to take a few laps around the living quarters. “What do you mean by that?” Jared responds, picking up on the struggle of her own that Scarlett’s mind wraps around the reality of, quick to call it into question. “I don’t know!” Scarlett shouts, losing her composure for a moment before the palms of her hands press against her face. Her skin pulled by the grip of her fingers, Scarlett’s hands drag themselves down the length of her face, wiping the stress in her facial muscles before collecting herself. Repeating the answer in her head, Scarlett allows the words to get comfortable inside of her mind, their presence having yet to elicit anything more than a persistent mental racket. “I think the realm is going to do something to Vic and I” Scarlett responds, her fingers sliding into the waistband of her jeans as her hands rest by her hips, “-something that’ll pit us against each other.” His eyes narrowing, Jared remains standing in complete silence for a moment, pre-answering questions that randomly pop into his head. “I get that this place does weird shit, but it doesn’t change who you are, does it?” Jared inquires, rounding the couch and coffee table to get closer to the distressed woman. “I don’t know, maybe?” Scarlett replies, as hard-pressed for answers as the man beside her is, “something tore Suzie and Lincoln apart, and we both know how that ended.” Guided by the optimist within him, Jared opts to seek greener pastures, directing his attention to a more hopeful outlook. “Maybe things are supposed to end differently for you two” Jared responds, his hand gently caressing the woman’s back, “I mean, you defied that corruption stuff! Clearly not everything is the same!” Though hesitant to fall into the trap of positivity, Scarlett finds herself stricken by the suggestion, wanting to accept Jared’s proposition as true. “You could be right, but that leaves me with the same question I’ve been asking for months!” Scarlett replies, forced to laugh off the frustration that simmers within her to prevent herself from growling, “if Vic and I doing this fight to the death thing isn’t how everything ends- what is?” His head shaking, Jared stares off into the distance, his mind reaching out for the first answer that makes enough sense to not sound ludicrous. “You live long and happy lives, die as old women, and retire to office building-world. How about that?” Jared responds, Scarlett’s eyes rolling as she looks to him, silently looking away as the man pulls her in for a hug. “There’s still a chance all of this works out better than your head makes it seem” Jared replies, gently squeezing her shoulder as the future that lays ahead catches up with his mind. “I don’t really know if I can believe this” Jared mutters beneath his breath, Scarlett’s face looking into his, their eyes connecting, “this might be the last time I ever see you.” With a smile, Scarlett rests her hand on Jared’s chest, her eyes trailing toward the base of his neck. “You thought that before, didn’t you?” Scarlett wonders aloud, her poor ability to say ‘goodbye’ making it impossible not to answer with humorous intent, “you’ve had practice.” A laugh given through an exhale, Jared nods to himself, able to smile, but not able to truly appreciate the joke. “I’m really gonna miss you” Jared responds, his true sadness over the woman’s departure forcing him to choke up before his declaration can be finished. Once filled with a wholesome joy, Scarlett’s eyes fill with a reciprocated sorrow. Her hand gently patting the man’s chest, Scarlett’s eyes let a few tears fall, overcome with a dejection that keeps her from cleanly responding. “I’m gonna miss you too” Scarlett replies, taking in a few breaths through her nose as she looks into Jared’s eyes, her arms wrapping around his neck as she whimpers, the pair sharing a tight embrace as they strive to combat their quickly unravelling demeanours. After a few moments, the pair reluctantly pull apart, Scarlett’s lips pecking Jared’s cheek as their bodies detach. “Are you gonna say goodbye to Rachel?” Jared asks, wiping his face of the waterworks that trickle down his chin, forced to clear his throat. “Uh- no, I don’t think- I don’t think I could handle that one” Scarlett replies, her hands more carefully clearing her face of tears, “I think my heart would just break, y’know?” Begrudgingly accepting her wishes, Jared nods, still trying to clear his throat as Scarlett approaches, resting her hands on each side of his face. “Take care of her, okay?” Scarlett asks, unable to raise her request without more tears beginning to run, “and be good to her, will you?” Flashing a smile, Jared nods, watching Scarlett pull away and walk toward the direction she’d entered, turning around to look Jared in the eyes as her hand lifts into the air. “Bye Jared” Scarlett whispers, her lip quivering as the man stands before her, hands hanging aimlessly by his sides. “Goodb-” Jared replies, again forced to clear his throat as the woman’s fingers press together, speaking through the flurry of sadness he knows himself incapable of putting down, “goodbye, Scarlett.” Lips pressed together, Scarlett snaps her fingers before she can convince herself not to, vanishing into air’s thin dimensions, leaving her friends with a life she hopes they can enjoy living. | \ Realm of Reality / Walking the streets of Malé in a flannel shirt, a pair of high-rise jeans and white running shoes, Vic traverses the city’s colourful town, her hands tucked into her pockets as she travels without a destination. Surrounded by people for the very first time, Vic dawns her sunglasses and bows her head, a grey flat cap already adorning her head. The ends of her shirt flailing in the gentle breeze, Vic chooses a corner store at random and enters it, drawn in by the allure of a cheap bottle of cola advertised on its signage. Immediately hit with the rush of an air conditioner set to the lowest possible temperature, Vic steps further into the store, her eyes taking to the assortment of standing refrigerators at the mart’s end. With ease, Vic retrieves a handful of glass bottles from the unit, shovelling one bottle after another into a leather bag until the shelf they’d once occupied sits empty. Licking her lips, Vic lowers her glasses to peer around the mart’s ceiling, the lack of security cameras providing her with a strange desire to defy the rules laid out by the society she inhabits. Her hand lifting into the air, Vic presses her fingers together before second thoughts arrive, the yearning quickly giving into the might her better judgement provides. Shaking her head as if to rid herself of something that had tried to exhort power over her, Vic returns her glasses to their seat upon the bridge of her nose and approaches the counter. Opening the flap on her bag, Vic presents the cashier with the stockpile of cola bottles she’d set within her bag. “I’ll save you the count and tell you there are twenty in here” Vic remarks, a set of folded notes slipping from her pocket and into her fingers, “and for your trust, here’s a thousand bucks.” His eyes widened, the clerk accepts the bribe with no hesitation, silently waving the woman toward the store’s exit. Returning to the door, Vic’s departure suddenly halts, her eyes captured by a glossy photo stuffed into the metal frame of a lottery ticket dispenser. “Is this New York?” Vic calls back to the clerk, again lowering the glasses from her eyes, able to spot the Empire State Building in the photo’s background. “Those are my vacation photos of family” the cashier replies, slightly subconscious over his grasp on the English language, “we went to states three years ago.” Nodding her head, Vic brings on a headache as she stares with more intensity, trying to recognise different buildings that surround the one of notability. “I remember doing a project on New York when I was younger” Vic replies, the headache only worsening the more she speaks, “my mom and I were up the entire night trying to put together a poster board. Yeah- I’d always wanted to go some day.” “The city was very beau-” the clerk begins to reply, a sudden yelp of pain interrupting him as it leaves Vic’s lips, the ground beneath the woman beginning to shake as balance evades her. “Are you okay?” the clerk shouts, confused to Vic’s reaction as her legs grow more unstable. The power of speech avoiding her, Vic stammers forward, her hands pressing against the display case as her eyes refuse to leave the photograph, seemingly glued to its glossy finish. “Miss!? Miss!?” The clerk continues to plead, desperately waiting for an answer Vic just can’t offer, the bright colours his store is decorated with turning to a faint shade of grey in Vic’s eyes, the vibrancy of the world she’s surrounded by rapidly deteriorating. “Do I call doctor for you, miss!? Miss!?” the clerk continues, able to watch Vic’s eyes glaze over as the woman loses consciousness, taking the display case with her as she collapses backward. Frantically racing around his counter, the clerk races to the woman’s aid, his hand instinctively ripping a medical kit from the wall as he hurries to her side, left visibly stunned at the sight he discovers. The glass of the lottery case shattered along the ground, only a leather bag with broken cola bottles remains of the woman’s presence, her unconscious body no longer to be found. His mouth agape, the clerk stares at the ground, the mess that waits for him to clean it left behind by the culprit. Shielding her face, Vic’s colourless haze subsides, replaced with the clear blue skies of a busy, bustling metropolitan. Cars passing in opposite directions by each of her sides, Vic stares at the numerous buildings that thrust into the heavens, the plethora of windows reflecting the bright sunset of a day just on the verge of ending. Confused, Vic takes a spin in each direction, nearly rotating three hundred and sixty degrees perfectly before her eyes take toward the distance. The sun behind her, Vic travels down the congested street, the sight of taxicabs alone giving her the impression that a strange phenomena has occurred. “Un-fucking-real” Vic whispers to herself, finally reaching the road’s end as it meets the East River, the distant shot of the Empire State Building capturing her attention and awe. “Smile kids!” a familiar voice remarks, immediately stealing Vic’s eyes from the tower, chummy sights yet to cease. Just as the photo had projected, Vic watches the camera flash for the Maldives’ clerk’s family photo, aligned with the Empire State Building just as they were in the picture. Squinting, Vic takes another spin, glancing at the passersby as they move on with their day, completely disregarding her presence. “Hello!?” Vic exclaims, drawing out the ‘o’ sound with her hands cupped around her mouth, projecting her voice forward with no one to hear it. Individually, each civilian passes by her with little contrary effort, her presence non-existent as far as they’re concerned. “Stop touching! I told you stop touching!” the clerk exclaims, swatting his son’s hand away from a small newspaper stand in a rage, his wife’s hand pressing against his arm in an effort to calm him. “Get off!” the clerk angrily exclaims, throwing his wife’s hand away from his body before slapping his oldest son across the face, the child’s stoic reaction leaving Vic with the suspicion he’d grown a tolerance to it. “You live in a strange world” a soft voice speaks, a whisper flowing through the air and latching onto Vic’s ear, no soul capable of creating such a sound anywhere within Vic’s vicinity. “It is a neccessary world- that is certain” the abnormal voice continues, the words it speaks now revolving around her head, almost mesmerising her in a strange way, “that necessity, however, does not make it any less strange.” “Are you speaking to me?” Vic wonders aloud, still looking in each direction for the voice’s source, as of yet unable to uncover it. “Who else would I be speaking to?” the voice inquires, the faint tone never once lifting higher than a whisper, “these people live in a time that has passed. They cannot respond to forces that have yet to exist.” “Is that what you are?” Vic quickly wonders aloud, patiently spinning in circles at a slow pace, waiting for the force that speaks to reveal itself. “I’m not sure” the voice replies, finally giving itself a physical form, Mother presenting herself to Vic just as she had before, her face empty apart from a mouth, her hands folded together, the tip of her head barely reaching the bottom of Vic’s chin. “Well, you seem to be sure about a lot of other things” Vic replies, Mother’s patience prevailing as she waits for her turn to speak, “what’re you coming down to tell me?” Bowing her head, Mother remains stood in absolute silence, only breaking her rigid posture upon stepping away from her post, slowly approaching the woman’s side. “The roles have never reversed, Victoria” Mother replies, parting her hands to lay one upon Vic’s shoulder, “all they have ever done is reconfigure themselves.” “Am I supposed to ask you what that means?” Vic quickly replies, gently pulling her shoulder away from Mother’s grasp, her confrontational demeanour not difficult to notice. “What the fuck are you? Are you a ghost? Are you supposed to be some really fucked up delusion, huh?” Vic continues to ask, Mother’s patience again proving too strong for Vic to dismantle, “what purpose are you supposed to be serving? What the fuck am I supposed to take from this?” With a pause, Mother lets Vic expend her breath before replying, her voice frail like an old woman’s would be. “Which of the questions would you like me to answer?” Mother queries, the skin where her eyes and nose would be appearing smooth, no different from that of a young adults, though the flesh around her mouth appears wrinkled, providing the same display as her voice. “I want you to tell me how to stop this” Vic replies, staring at where the woman’s eyes would otherwise be as she speaks with confidence, “I want you to tell me how this is supposed to end.” Her lips pressing together, Mother’s head hangs, her hands parting for a second time before hovering over Vic’s, voluntarily restoring the woman’s powers before lifting her face, only answering Vic’s question when the woman’s hands glow a vibrant blue. “Whether you care to admit it or not is a journey for which you, and you alone, must take” Mother replies, lifting her hand into the air before pressing her fingers together, snapping with a single set of departing words, “-deep down, you already know that answer.” Leaving Vic no room to respond, Mother frees the woman from her paradox, the sky around New York turning grey just as its photographic counterpart had. Coming to, Vic finds herself stood near the standing refrigerators at the market’s rear, a man’s frantic babbling easy to hear from the store’s front. Taking a moment to run her hand over the smooth, hairless skin on her arms, Vic takes full attention of the remarks exclaimed across the mart from herself, eyes narrowing as her sights are set forward. Hair bouncing off her shoulders, Vic steps through aisles stacked with random items, most of whom don’t belong together, let alone within the same few metres as each other. Heart set on winning different battles, Vic steps over the wreckage she’d left behind and approaches the unassuming clerk, his back turned to the rest of his store as he phones emergency services. Snatching the phone from his hand, Vic wraps her hand around the store owner’s neck and lifts him off the ground, his back pressed against the wall as she hangs the phone back upon its receiver. “If I ever hear about you beating your family again, I’ll come back and make an example out of you” Vic warns, the man’s eyes staring into her own with a horrifying fear, “do you understand me?” Quickly losing oxygen, the man wraps his hands around Vic’s wrist and nods, his feet returned to the ground upon his agreement as Vic relinquishes him from her grasp. Peering into her bag, Vic discovers most of the bottles to be intact as the leather satchel is hoisted over her shoulders. “I’m taking these too” Vic remarks, snatching a handful of small chip bags before stuffing them, too, into her rucksack, “enjoy the cash, creep.” Snapping her fingers, Vic vanishes before the clerk’s eyes with little concern, his palms pressing against the floor as he pushes himself backward, gasping for air in utter shock. == Dream Sequence == Season 3 Premiere
\ Realm of Reality / The sole of his foot slamming against the brake pedal, West’s cruiser drags across debris-covered pavement as it rolls to a stop, faced with a scene of utter devastation. “Hey, what the hell happened!?” West exclaims, calling out to a group of police officers as they near, his question ignored as they race past him without a second thought. His mouth agape and eyes widened in shock, West falls against his vehicle whilst his arm sits atop its roof, unable to stand properly. Stripped bare of any grass, asphalt or concrete foundations, the three-kilometre strip of land sits as nothing more than a massive, circular patch of mud. Unable to close his mouth, West presses his left hand against his lips, his mind still struggling to process the tragedy that sits before him. “How many people are dead!?” West exclaims, calling out to another flock of officers, each passing him by just as the last assortment had, the back-most officer’s arm taken into West’s grasp. “Hey, hey! How many are dead!?” West asks again, the subordinate quickly jerking his arm back, taking both offence and a dislike for West’s interference. “I don’t know!” the officer exclaims, stepping away to rejoin his unit, “do you see anything that survived this!?” As the question prompts West to wonder quietly, a harrowing answer soon prevails over the rest, one that ties West’s stomach into knots that would make the most experienced survivalists jealous. Using the ill sensation, West contorts his sickness into a blistering, unadulterated anger, propelling himself into action with it as his motivation. Taking a few steps towards the blast’s epicentre, a sudden roar in the distance emerges, unable to finish before frantic calls are howled through the radios of each stationary police cruiser. “We’re under attack!” an officer in training exclaims, the attention of each deputy on the scene drawn in his direction. “There’s a bombing downtown! A building just came down!” the officer reiterates, inciting a flurry of chatter amongst the different cop-filled bundles. Seething, West connects the dots left for him to trace, their path leading him directly to the face he’d held responsible for the death of his closest confidant. His right eye twitching, West turns away from the scene and returns to his vehicle, turning the key in his ignition as the door slams shut behind him. His rear wheels kicking up wet dirt, West pulls away from the ruination and returns to the road he’d arrived upon, his car directed toward the nearest exit leading to Praireville’s heart. = Dream Sequence is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 Media from the start of Season 1 onwards = \ Realm of Reality / His presence alone sending Praireville into a terror, Lincoln sets his aggressions upon the population. Herding together like sheep, civilians race to the nearest safety, following the closest wanderer through the well-lit, small-town streets with dreams of uncovering sanctuary. The fingers on his right hand sprawling outward, Lincoln forces his palm toward the ground, crushing clumps of innocent bystanders into piles of eviscerated bone and gore. His face pale and drained of emotion other than exhaustion, fury and suffering, Lincoln plays with the mortal souls beneath his levitating body, picking them out from the crowd like trinkets from a jewellery box. With the motion of his finger, legs are swept from beneath Lincoln’s unsuspecting victims, their bodies given nothing to break their fall as they collide with the pavement. Whilst a few lucky souls overcome their impacts, most find themselves unlucky, gorgonized just long enough for Lincoln to commence the next phase of his attack. Having seemingly vanished behind the physical dominance of yet another high-rise office complex, Lincoln’s presence reveals itself yet again, this time peeking out from the wounded population’s tragically flawed assumption of momentary optimism. With a force greater than that of most Californian earthquakes, Praireville’s road begins to crack and splinter, a wave of pedestrians forced to the ground as yet another building begins to sway. Encouraged by his wrath, Lincoln rips the foundation of the office complex he’d hidden his presence behind from the ground it was embedded into, gradually pushing it forward as if it were the domino at the start of a long line. Windows shattering from the movement alone, Lincoln topples the building, watching its walls flatten as warped metal juts through debris, sentencing those he’d swept the feet of to a permanent slumber beneath. A row of buildings and street lights immediately going dark as the complex snaps overhead electrical wires, Praireville becomes consumed in a blanket of darkness, lorded over by a malefactor that gratifies himself in unleashing an implausible horror the world has yet to witness. Floating through the air off-balanced and glassy-eyed, Lincoln revels in the carnage he’s waged, a small town left in ruins at his hands. Fearing the awful fate that could be in store for themselves, onlookers hurdle themselves over the edges of overpasses and from sidewalk-adjacent terraces, landing on other, equally desperate people just begging for a second lease on life. A malicious smile occupying his face, Lincoln turns his sights toward the still-lit portions of walkway ahead, his intentions as sour as those he’d arrived with. In a change of fate, a sudden burst of light blinds Lincoln’s villainous sights, his face spotlighted by an approaching police helicopter. Unaware of what’s within its best interests, the helicopter closes the distance between itself and the mid-flight, one-man guerrilla. Though badly injured, Lincoln retains the insight to know what the unfolding situation says in quiet, unspoken terms, the first to strike likely to be the one allowed to leave with their life. Summoning his dagger from the realm beyond, Lincoln repeats the gesture he’d collapsed buildings and severed roadways with, the dagger slicing across his body from the left and toward the aircraft ahead. Its windows shattered, the helicopter is sliced halfway through its large, metal frame in a diagonal line, pulling apart before it even has the chance to lose its elevation. Like a cap gently removed from the container it fits to, the helicopter gracefully snaps apart, each piece descending from the heavens and into the town below, littering the street with even more litter and casualties. The sky left cold, dark and empty, only Lincoln stands above all else, the building that now stands as the highest in Praireville still many levels below the bottom of his feet. Gentle raindrops falling upon him, Lincoln lifts his chin toward the sky, his skin softened by the tender droplets that coat his sinful flesh. “I’m the chosen one” Lincoln whispers into the heavens, his arms outstretched as the wind picks up speed, “I will die just the same.” His ears latching onto a nearby disturbance, Lincoln turns his focus in the opposite direction of where the helicopter had arrived, a much quicker set of forces speeding into his line of sight. His wherewithal still firmly intact, Lincoln narrowly dodges the double-attempt on his life with a flurry of evasive shifts, the forces opposing him zipping by with as little warning as they’d arrived with. “It took you longer than I’d expected” Lincoln barks, his voice carried through the air with grace, though spoken to Scarlett and Vic with a withered tone. Uninterested in sharing words any further than they already had, the girls ready themselves for a counterattack, dodging the wave of Lincoln’s hand by arching themselves at a precise angle, thwarting Lincoln’s assault with the principle of aerodynamics. The first to restabilise herself, Vic parts her fingers just as Lincoln had, the wave of her palm met with a similar lack of success. Crossing his arms, Lincoln allows the sonic blast to carry him many kilometres away, no aircraft or building to obstruct his propulsion, allowing him to slowly recapture control over his flight. Correctly assuming her attempt had faltered, Vic rips through the air in pursuit, leaving Scarlett to follow behind. Attempting to propel herself forward, Scarlett feels the grasp of an unfamiliar hand wrap around her wrist, not only preventing her from giving chase, but catapulting her back into the rubble-coated ground below. Her body spinning uncontrollably, Scarlett’s instincts eventually assume control, her eyes setting upon a specific destination as her frame adjusts for the plummet. In the last moment, Scarlett’s return to earth is corrected, her fist slamming into the already-fractured asphalt as she assumes a three-point pose, positioning herself just as any superhero would. Paying little mind to the aftershock she’d sent tearing through the earth’s core, Scarlett’s attention takes to the sky, a single figure becoming all the more familiar as she draws nearer, flanked by her mercenaries for added effect. “Step out of my way, Suzie” Scarlett orders, keeping her guard high at the uncertainty over the woman’s presence, “we want Lincoln dead just like you.” Her head shaking, Suzie touches upon the closest thing to solid ground Praireville can offer, Razul and Kazro led at her beck and call. “Were you not up there just a second ago? Did you not see him?” Suzie inquires, summoning her bright red service dagger with her heart set on war, “his clock’s just about to strike midnight.” Incensed, Scarlett takes a quick glance at the sky before returning her look toward Suzie, almost contemplating which conflict her fight is most needed. “So now you’ve got no worries. We’ve already outlasted the clock” Scarlett mutters beneath her breath, Suzie’s ear still able to capture every syllable uttered, “now you just need us dead.” With a shrug, Suzie raises her dagger toward Scarlett’s direction, the tip of her blade lining up directly with the blonde woman’s throat. “It’s nothing personal, kid-” Suzie replies, though her statement is true, an inescapable sense of mockery cloaks itself behind her declaration, “-don’t make this harder than it has to be.” Her eyes burning a hole through Suzie’s face, Scarlett peers into the sky for a second time, her mind trying to make sense of the predicament she’s encased within, and rationalise her response. “Vic can manage on her own” Scarlett replies, her hand lifting from the ground as she stands to her feet, the woman having returned to Praireville prepared for a war she now accepts the role she plays within it. Summoning her service weapon, Scarlett stares into Suzie’s eyes, refusing to allow the woman even the slightest opportunity to capitalise upon. Rather than disgust or approval, Suzie’s eyes widen in surprise, her face going pale as she steps back, rocked by what she discovers. “Impossible” Suzie whispers, the emphasis in her voice having fallen just as her battle-tested expression does. Confused, Scarlett watches Suzie’s dagger lower toward the ground, only able to guide herself by following her line of sight toward the source of her awestruck reaction. Her head lowering, Scarlett’s eyes lay upon the same unearthing as Suzie’s had, a similar reaction befalling her to that of her rival’s. Summoned just as it had countless times before, its structure as unchanged as its shape, Scarlett’s service weapon emerges from the realm beyond with a new look, its bold, dark red glow exchanged for a crisp, deep, oceanic blue. Simmering, Suzie locks eyes with Scarlett for a second time, her face beaten with an anger she’d yet to present. “Alright-” Suzie murmurs, readying her battle stance yet again, this time more driven than she’d been before, “-now it’s personal.” | \ Realm of Reality / Her hand wrapped around his throat, Vic and Lincoln twirl through the air with seemingly little end in sight, the younger woman shifting backward to evade the service dagger’s repeated swipes. Eventually forced to pull her hand away as the pulsating blade targets her arm, Vic and Lincoln momentarily separate, continuing to chase each other through the skies, now too far from the levelled Praireville skyline that they no longer recognise the air they occupy. Finally given a reprieve from combat, Lincoln takes immediate notice of Scarlett’s absence, something Vic takes an additional few seconds to realise for herself. “Where’s you friend, Victoria?” Lincoln exclaims, the whites of his eyes laggardly darkening into a sickly shade of yellow. “Where’s your sister, Christopher?” Vic rebukes, a question that instantly detours Lincoln’s attention. “Wh- how-?” Lincoln stammers, the vocalisation of his birth name clearly catching him by immense surprise, “how do you-?” The ability to finish his inquiry unafforded, Vic continues to wrench at the parts of Lincoln’s mind that make him tick, plunging the metaphorical blade further into his heart. “Why change your name, anyway?” Vic wonders aloud, pulling the trigger on her service weapon a few further times, each resounding charge she fires missing just as they have through the evenings entirety. “As if I’d tell you that?” Lincoln responds, scoffing at the woman’s qualm as he shields himself from a few extra discharged bolts from Vic’s service weapon, his dagger reflecting the charges further out into the deep sky, “it’s none of your concern to know.” Annoyed, Vic floats restlessly in nondescript Louisiana’s empty skies, the sounds of sirens and helicopters that had grown so distant recently now impossible to hear from so far away. “Don’t you wanna share your secrets?” Vic continues, their hostilities still held even though their clash now stalls, verbal warfare slowly becoming the preferred method of assault. “Secrets are the only things that are ever personal anymore. That’s the whole point- they’re ours” Lincoln responds, his face beginning to sag, “you take them with you when you die. They’re yours ‘till the end- and they stay that way.” Scowling at the man, Vic chooses to refute the need for bloodshed Lincoln has waged, relinquishing herself of her service weapon as she, knowingly, accepts her self-appointed position of vulnerability. “Is that what you want?” Vic wonders aloud, her peaceful display puzzling her violent foe, who remains suspended high above the sky, choosing to occupy the second side of the discussion. “Do you really wanna die- having done everything you’ve done, and seen everything you’ve done- do you really want it to just disappear?” Vic queries, watching Lincoln’s face fall lower, not from any changed emotions, but from a genuine focus on the woman’s inquiry. “I don’t care what I want” Lincoln responds, struggling to take in a full lung’s worth of air as he lifts the back of his shirt, the majority of it stained red with his blood. “I’m going to die regardless, secrets or no secrets- what difference would it make?” Lincoln responds, admitting that he has no expectation of survival by the night’s conclusion, “I’ll be a lost soul just as the rest are.” “And that doesn’t bother you?” Vic responds, the question remaining despite being raised as if it were a statement, a subtle look of repulsion in her face. “It doesn’t bother me anymore than it should bother you” Lincoln replies, the colour in his service dagger beginning to fade just as his life does, “you and I are cut from the same cloth.” Her eyes pressing closer together, Vic remains silent, her quietude prompting Lincoln to continue speaking, taking it as her request for elaboration. “Haven’t you ever wondered why all of your shit is coloured blue, and Scarlett’s is red?” Lincoln wonders aloud, the query always having settled at the back of Vic’s mind, though never having surfaced as anything more than a random thought, “you’re the same as my sister and I. We’re born into the realm pure, and they’re born corrupted.” Both restrained by the need to know more and furious at Lincoln’s inclination, Vic resummons her service weapon, prepared to re engage in battle. “You can try to kill me, that’s fine. It won’t change the fact that- the real war, how this game really ends- is between you and Scarlett” Lincoln posits, a limp nod granted as the far racket of aircraft creep closer. “If you really want me to share a secret before I go- here it is-” Lincoln remarks, still able to muster enough strength to reclaim his malevolent grin, “-I never thought Suzie would kill me, either.” Pushed beyond the desire to speak, Vic presses her finger upon her service weapon’s trigger, a steady flow of pulses discharged in Lincoln’s direction, all missing their target as the man speeds through the skies, retreating to the small, annihilated town they’d left behind. | \ Realm of Reality / Forced into a consistent withdrawal, Scarlett gives up copious amounts of land to Suzie, each centimetre she’s forced to pull away by is another centimetre her adversary forges ahead by. Leaping off the tops of ruined vehicles and around the corpses of many unfortunate folk, Scarlett evades Suzie’s onslaught one manoeuvre at a time, each brief success followed by the need to avoid a succeeding attack from either Razul or Kazro. “You don’t get redemption!” Suzie howls, thrusting her dagger-wielding hand forward at each sign of life Scarlett provides, slashing whatever lays ahead into multiple pieces and fragments. Driven into choosing her moments carefully, Scarlett presents a few, sparse counterattacks in Suzie’s direction, most proving ineffective as time passes. “Alright, kid- let’s see how you like this” Suzie exclaims, the fingers on her right hand bending forward until her palm resembles a claw, the tips of her fingers held in Scarlett’s direction. Puckering her lips, Suzie blows on the empty hand and launches it forward, her massive combatant accomplices quickly snapping themselves back into the realm beyond’s embrace. Though what flies toward her direction takes on no appearance whatsoever, a brief, red flash of light begins to blink from the perceived emptiness, leaving Scarlett with little more than impulse to act on. The mangled husk of what was one a minivan now guided through the air by her hand, Scarlett braces for cover as the unassuming orb makes contact with the vehicle’s wreckage, cascading the immediate area in an explosion upon impact. Her mind taking control of her movements, Scarlett’s fingers snap just as the heat touches upon the back of her neck, the spot she’d occupied before vanishing levelled by the minivan mere seconds later. The explosion soon subsiding, Praireville’s remains begin to quiet, the charred remnants of what once comprised a minivan beginning to settle into its resting place, no sign of Scarlett’s body left before it. Though not convinced her objective has been accomplished, Suzie approaches the scene with cautious optimism, slowly encroaching upon Scarlett’s last-known position with her eyes peeled. Dagger wielded, Suzie guides the van away from its journey’s end via her telekinesis, holding out hope that she’ll uncover a grizzly, welcomed sight. “Let me save you the trouble” Scarlett whispers into Suzie’s ear, provoking the woman into spinning around defensively, her target yet to resurface. Catching Suzie’s eye off the ball, Scarlett reemerges behind the woman’s back, her finger on the trigger of her service weapon as its barrel aims at the back of Suzie’s head. Prepared to pull the trigger, Scarlett’s efforts prove futile, her fatal intentions interfered with at the last moment. Saving his sister’s life, Lincoln soars through the air and thrusts his hand forward, thrusting Scarlett through the air with incredible forces once thought unimaginable. Again compelled by her intuition, Scarlett rescues herself from certain death by reclaiming control over her body, narrowly avoiding a direct collision with an overturned eighteen wheeler by taking to the sky. Her ascent slowing, Scarlett relinquishes her service weapon once more, the hand she replaces it with now balled into a fist, its aim taken toward her point of lift off. Only just now realising the fate that almost claimed her existence, Suzie’s eyes fall upon Lincoln, the man’s face wearing the expression of a man on his last legs. “Heads up” Lincoln groans, aware of the assault Scarlett plans on launching next. Jarred by Lincoln’s preservation of her life, Suzie looks to him with a shocked look, only then recognising what’s bound for the ground she currently resides upon. With all the strength he still wields, Lincoln launches himself into the sky, following his sister’s lead as Scarlett collides with earth once more, her three point stance accompanying it as Lincoln and Suzie descend from the heavens. His legs going weak, Lincoln falls to one knee, the sight of his fragility prompting Suzie and Scarlett’s battle to briefly cease, their attention set upon the dying soul. “What!?” Lincoln groans as loud as he can muster, forcing himself back to two feet as a pair of headlights round the corner a few hundred metres behind him, “haven’t you ever heard of a man’s dying breath?” Interrupted by the squealing sound of tires drawing near, Lincoln’s head turns toward the opposite end of the road, the oncoming pair of lights rapidly speeding in his direction. Having returned just in time to spectate the sudden lull in combat, Vic joins Suzie and Scarlett in returning to the realm beyond with the snap of their fingers, only Lincoln left upon the dishevelled streets. “This is for the rookie” West mutters beneath his breath, both hands gripping tightly around the steering wheel as his foot presses into the gas pedal, refusing to accept anything less than the highest speed his cruiser can manage. His time drawing to a close, Lincoln defies the realm one final time, his mangled left hand outstretched toward the car as the right prepares for his send off. His timing impeccable, Lincoln’s fingers snap just as the skin on his finger connects with the hood of West’s cruiser, vanishing into thin air along with the sheriff and the vehicle his existence is sentenced to death with. | \ Realm Beyond - Eternal Office - The Mezzanine / Landing without issue, Suzie hears the bottoms of Scarlett and Vic’s shoes collide with the ground, tapping along the linoleum finish as they struggle to keep their balance. “There’s no way you’re still this clueless by now, guys” Suzie remarks, quietly judging the girls as she reunites with her brutes, Razul and Kazro returning to her sides. “That’s pretty tough talk for-” Scarlett begins to reply, her thoughts interrupted as a gust of wind begins to circulate throughout the towering foyer, a rumble growing in the realm’s heavens. Within moments, the roaring sound of a powerful engine rips through the mezzanine, unable to stop its momentum before barrelling over the floor’s lip and into the dark, lifeless abyss below. “What the fuck!?” Vic exclaims, leaping back in shock as she does so seconds before Lincoln’s body leaves the air, landing hard upon the mezzanine’s ground. “Chris!” Suzie screams, overtaken with grief in a moment powerful enough for her to forget their chequered past, the incomparable hatred she holds for him instantly disappearing as the true care the likes of which she’d hidden deep within herself long ago, returns to the surface. No longer Lincoln’s greatest rival, Suzie becomes her brother’s baby sister once more, the bond they’d allowed to fall into disrepair rekindled just as the clock begins to strike midnight. Lincoln’s head in her hands, Suzie looks into the man’s dark, yellow eyes as tears begin to fall from those of her own, his devious grin replaced with a sympathetic, gracious smile. “Hey, sis” Lincoln whispers, his barely-operable hand finding the back of Suzie’s own, the blue glow in his eyes turning their own shade of inevitable red, “it’s good to see you.” His palm already cold, Lincoln’s hand falls limp, slowly grazing Suzie’s hand as it falls to the ground, his glassy eyes losing their lustre as the red glow dies out, their natural, hazel colour replacing it. The first tear she’d allowed to run for her brother now falling upon Lincoln’s forehead as it drops from her chin, Suzie’s lip begins to quiver, her brother’s final moments spent protecting her just as his first had. Quiet, Scarlett and Vic watch on, a suppressed concern just beginning to climb toward the surface, the idea that the sights set before them offer a glimpse into a collective future begin to weigh upon their frazzled minds. Their heads slowly turning away from the disheartening scene, Scarlett and Vic’s eyes soon take to each other, a silent realisation that they share a fear of the future brings with it a steady chill down the back of their necks. == Dream Sequence == |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
March 2024
Categories |
RSS Feed